Jammies, Jammy Dodgers, and the Elusive Cup of Tea
by river-tam's-song
Summary: All Amy wanted was a cup of tea, but now the TARDIS is grumpy, the Doctor is mildly concussed, and Rory is bewildered. And what in the name of sanity is the Doctor wearing anyway? Mornings are a lot more complicated in the Time Vortex.


**Hi! So, apparently I'm supposed to write a little author's note at the beginning. Umm, this is the first fanfic I've uploaded, and the first I wrote in the Whoniverse, so if it's not perfect please don't hate me, just tell me how to fix it. **

**Doctor Who is not mine. You probably would have noticed by now if it were. **

"Doctor?" Rory shouted. "DOCTOR!"

The Doctor shot out of the top bunk of his bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, somewhat excitedly.

"Um," Rory said, his eyes downcast in a slightly flushed face, "Amy sent me to tell you that she can't find the tea."

"Oh. All right then," the Doctor said, silently making dire threats. He didn't need to sleep often, but when he did he did _not _like waking up unless the universe was closing in.

_How long it would take Amy to notice if I tied Rory up and locked him in the wardrobe? Then again, with Rory's luck, he'd probably end up drowning in the swimming pool. Never mind. Nix the wardrobe. But this is Amy's fault, too. Maybe I could just stick them both on some planet, run around for a few years, and come back in five minutes. Then again, considering how the TARDIS typically responds to five minutes, they'd probably both be dead by the time I get back. And I would get awfully bored without someone to stand and gape as I save the world—and, for that matter, to wake me up too early the one time I decide to try sleeping to find her tea. Okay. Nix the deserted planet, keep the Ponds. There. Glad that's settled. Oh, I probably ought to say something else. I think I'm being rude again._

"Goooooood morning Rory! Rory! Rory the Roman. Good morning Rory! And what can I do for you?" he said, still a little spastic from thinking he would get to save the world—and, with any luck, blow something up in the process, and maybe even find a fez.

"Ummmmmm…" the Rory in question said, a little put off by the sudden switch in temperament. "Amy was wondering if you could find her some tea?"

"Tea. Yes. Good. Absolutely I will find her some tea. I think I'll find some jammy dodgers to go with that tea—you've got some, haven't you old girl?"

Feeling even more out of the loop as the Doctor started ignoring him in favor of conversing with his TARDIS, Rory left, saying, "I… think I'll go tell Amy that her tea is on the way."

"Yes. Go ahead," the Doctor mumbled, preoccupied with riffling through his nightstand to see if the TARDIS had deposited his beloved biscuits there in the night. She hadn't. He checked the greenhouse—_still no jammy dodger tree_—his left shoe—_why does the TARDIS keep hiding it? Does she have something against left shoes? She never did this with my trainers!_—in his dressing gown—_Ewwww! A pear! How have I not found that in four years? Are these pockets bigger on the inside too? Stupid pear-eating ape of a Harold!_—and through a small crack in the wall that led to a room he'd never seen before—_this is a karaoke bar! I'll have to come back here. After I find my biscuits_—and, finally, in the kitchen.

Amy was sitting at the table, looking far too impatient for either his or Rory's good, waiting for her tea. Which he hadn't found in any of the places he'd looked. Which was probably because it was in the kitchen cupboard where it belonged.

Her rather peeved expression immediately gave way to peals of hysterical laughter.

"What?" the Doctor asked her, a bit confused.

"You," she managed to choke out before starting to laugh again.

"What about me?" he said, now more than a bit confused. _Nine hundred-and-something-or-other years, and I still can't understand one Amy Pond._

"You're wearing—"

More laughing and gasping for breath. A half-dozen false starts later, she finally managed to complete her thought.

"Do you realize what you're wearing?" she giggled.

"Yes. I'm wearing my jammies. Is that a problem? I realize I don't normally roam around in them, but, to be fair, you visited a futuristic civilization in your nightie. Which you are also wearing now."

"Yes, and I saved it too," she said, lifting her chin just a notch. "But, honestly Doctor, those are—those are just—" and here she dissolved into hysterical laughter once again.

"What is wrong with my jammies?" he asked her. _More importantly, what's wrong with Pond? Normally she does not dissolve into hysterical laughter quite so easily. _

Rory couldn't help snickering.

"Rory," the Doctor said, "since you apparently also find my jammies amusing and your wife cannot seem to stop laughing long enough to inform me of why, would you please be so kind as to enlighten me?"

"Well," he stammered, "they have feet."

"Yes, they do. My feet get cold. Is that a problem?"

"You're wearing footie jammies," Amy choked, "AND A BOWTIE!" By this point, she would have fallen off her chair if Rory hadn't caught her, and she was crying she was laughing so hard.

"I still don't see the problem. Bowties are cool. And so are my jammies," he said, looking affronted.

"Oh, suuuuuuure they are," Amy said. "What kind of twisted alien fashion sense do you have?"

"A very good kind. And now, Pond, if you have no more snide comments about my favourite jammies, I'm going to go find some tea. Otherwise, I'd be perfectly happy without."

"All right," she said. "But you'd better be as good at tea-finding as you are bad at dressing yourself, because I couldn't find anything."

"POND!" he said warningly.

"All right. Shutting up. No more comments about the jammies. Or the bowtie," she said, attempting to look chastened (and failing miserably).

"It should be in…here," he said, opening a cupboard. "No! Don't do this to me. All right. Here we go!"_ Thank you for making this very difficult for me. I was always good to you! Mostly. Come on, girl. Play nice._

"Ummm, Doctor?"

"Yes, Amy?"

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Well, you're supposed to be looking for tea, but it looks like you're about to dive into a small, horizontal cupboard."

"And that's where you'd be wrong," he said, "because in fact I am about to dive into a very large vertical cupboard."

"All right then," she said with a flip of her hair.

"GERONIMO!" he said as he jumped in and began to fall.

Rory looked in after him and saw him falling into what appeared to be a long, straight, horizontal tunnel but had apparently switched gravity.

"He's right," Rory said.

"Move over, stupid face! Let me see," Amy said as she bumped Rory out of the way to watch the Doctor dive into his own cupboard. "YOU STUPID MACHINE!" she yelled at the TARDIS, slamming the cupboard's door shut. "ALL I WANTED WAS A CUP OF TEA, AND YOU HAD TO PUT IT DOWN A TUNNEL! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?"

"Besides making me drop the thermocouplings yesterday? _Again? _What's that, eight times now?" Rory chided.

"Oh. Right," Amy said quietly before once again turning to address the TARDIS. "I'M SORRY! I WON'T DO IT AGAIN! CAN I HAVE MY TEA NOW?"

The TARDIS gave a rather friendly whine and, soon, Amy and Rory heard a rather loud thump in the cupboard, along with a muffled shriek.

"POND! LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

Amy rushed over to the cupboard and pulled open the door to see that it had returned to its nice, normal, small, horizontal state, and that its contents now included one rather angry doctor in footie jammies and a bowtie crammed into it in a position that did not look particularly conducive to good chiropractic health.

"Of course," he mumbled darkly, "she had to decide to make it easy once I was already IN the tunnel. Rory, Amy, will you please pull me out of this very small cupboard?"

They each grabbed one of his hands and pulled, and he tumbled out of the cabinet along with a monstrous tin of jammy dodgers, a box of tea, a kettle of hot, freshly-made tea, a bunch of bananas, and an ice pack. The Doctor quickly grabbed the ice pack and held it to his aching head as Amy and Rory set everything else on the counter.

"I donthik… maybee cubbords arnt mentfer divin' intu," he said as he pulled himself up, only to stagger and fall down. "I godda conkussin," he said before promptly becoming sick in a hole in the floor the TARDIS kindly opened since, really, it WAS her fault and she felt a bit guilty.

Rory helped the woozy Doctor into a chair and began bustling around in a rather nursely fashion.

"Amy, could you make sure he doesn't fall out of the chair? And hold that ice pack on," Rory said in an unusually authoritative (at least for him) tone before beginning to rummage through the now normal-sized cupboards.

"What are you looking for?" Amy asked.

"Aspirin or something," Rory replied. "He's going to have a massive headache."

"NO!" The woozy Doctor sat bolt upright. "No ashpren! Donneed ashpren! Jush gimme a bananana an sum tea."

Rory and Amy exchanged looks.

"You'd better do it," Amy told him.

"That doesn't even make any sense! How could that help?" an indignant Rory said

"His physiology is different. If he says to do it, do it," Amy said. "Not to mention, the TARDIS is apparently trying to take care of him. THANK YOU BY THE WAY! It would make sense that she already gave us everything we need. Besides, could it really hurt?"

"Okay," he said reluctantly.

Rory peeled the banana and fed it to the Doctor as Amy poured a cup of tea. Once his medicine of choice was gone, the Doctor said, "Mkay… Jus a minute. I can feel it gettin better." Immediately afterwards, he started to shake and Rory started to panic, grabbing him and attempting to hold him still. "STAND BACK!" the Doctor yelled, and Rory jumped back. After about five seconds, he was still and pale, his eyes closed. Amy began to sniffle and Rory stepped forward, leaning over the motionless Time Lord.

All at once, the colour rushed back into his cheeks and he jumped up, yelling "Yowza!"

Rory yelped and sprang back, terrified.

"Yowza?" the Doctor mused, "Do I say that? Yes, no, maybe?" Amy and Rory shook their heads vehemently. "No? No. I don't. I was just a bit woozy. Rory, are you all right? You look rather pale."

"I'm fine," he said. "Absolutely fine."

"He's miffed," Amy informed the Doctor cheekily. "Rory wanted to be able to bustle about, and you decided to heal yourself with a banana and a cup of tea."

"What can I say? Bananas are good. Good source of potassium and great conversation starters. And tea… Perfect mixture of antitoxins and such. Put them together, and I'm good as new!"

Amy ran and hugged him, but then instantaneously pulled back and slapped him. Hard.

"OWW! Yes, let's all slap the man who just recovered from a concussion. What was that for?"

"Don't you EVER scare me like that again!" Amy said.

"All right. I'll make a note of it. Don't get injured because it will scare Amy. Don't worry, Pond. I think I have enough intrinsic motivation to avoid serious injury, thank you."

"Fine. Please do."

"I'll try my best," the Doctor said with a small smile.

"Um, guys?" Rory said.

They turned toward him and said in unison, "Yes?"

"It would kind of be a shame to go through all that for a cup of tea and then let the water get cold, wouldn't it?"

They looked over, and, sure enough, a shiny tea kettle was steaming on the dormant stove.

"Oh. Right. Everyone, let's have our hard-earned tea," proclaimed the Doctor. "Rory, would you mind getting the cups? I think I'd like to stay away from cupboards in the near future."

"Sure."

"Wait a minute! What's that on the counter?" a Doctor turned rather childish by excitement queried as he sprang over and possessively clutched the biscuits to his chest. "JAMMY DODGERS! There we go! Don't worry, old girl. All is forgiven," he said, pulling off the top. "Mmmmf. Thees are so goohd!" he said after shoving three entire biscuits in his mouth simultaneously.

Amy rolled her eyes at the sight of her Time Lord acting basically six as she and Rory sat down to (finally) have a cup of tea. Of course, before she had her first sip, the TARDIS started bleeping and pinging. Everyone ran to the control room, the Doctor still clutching his tin of jammy dodgers.

"It's a distress signal," he explained. "I'm heading that way."

"Doctor?" Amy asked, looking down at her nightie.

"Yes, Amy?"

"Do you realize that we're all still in our… Oh never mind. You don't care, do you?"

"Probably not!" he said as he jumped around flipping switches, pushing buttons, and, finally, pulling the wibbly lever with a dramatic flourish.

As the screeching sound that the Doctor could never quite imitate announced that they had landed, a figure burst through the doors, ran to the control console, and danced around it with well-practiced motions as they all rocketed silently back into the time vortex.

_Of course. She's been here five seconds, and she turns off the brakes and turns on the stabilizers. Just the way I hate it. _

"Thanks for the rescue," she said. "All right, I'm sure you all want to know what's going—Doctor, what in the name of sanity are you wearing?"

"Good morning, Doctor Song."

"Good morning, Doctor. What exactly do you call that…outfit?"

"Will you people please stop mocking my favourite jammies? What is wrong with them?"

River and Amy just looked at each other.

"Oh no. I know where you two are going. I saw those faces before I lost my fez. Ladies, if you are going to dematerialize my pajamas—and I'd prefer you didn't—could you please at least wait until I am wearing something else?"

"But what if we want to get rid of that, too?" River asked, the picture of innocence.

"Honestly, you two! Give it a rest! I have wonderful fashion sense. You just don't appreciate it."

Every pair of eyes but one made a sudden inspection of the TARDIS ceiling.

Rory broke the silence. "River, would you like some tea?"

"Tea would be wonderful, thank you."

Back to the kitchen they went, the Doctor still holding his biscuit tin.

Amy turned to River, asking, "Do you want a cookie? We have—Doctor!"

"They were mine! I asked for them. I got you your tea—at great personal risk, I might add—and so the cookies were mine," he said with a childlike pout. _They were rightfully mine! What is wrong with her this morning?_

"Well, we HAD jammy dodgers. Until the Doctor got hungry," Amy quipped, glaring at the hungry Doctor.

"Don't worry. Darling," he said, addressing the TARDIS, "could I please have some more jammy dodgers?"

"And a few lemon bars," River added. "Thank you!" She walked over and opened a cupboard (the Doctor was still avoiding them) to reveal the requested treats.

"Why didn't you do that before all this started?" Amy shouted. And then she drank her tea.


End file.
